Forgetting is Like Remembering (They Both Hurt)
by ryoku1
Summary: The person Elliot imagines when he closes his eyes, is not what he expects. It is not the girl in front of him, and it is not what he is ready for. For the Pandora Hearts Fanfest on tumblr.


_one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two-_

"We can rest if you'd like, Elliot." Came the sweet, fluttering response from his dancing partner. Elliot shook his head once in a strong negative, and kept leading her around the gym in wide sweeping circles. Characteristically demure, Ada simply smiled at him softly, and let him keep going without a word.

That was, until he stepped on her foot. She yelped in surprise, and Elliot instantly jumped away from her, letting go of her hand and waist in the process. A look of complete apology washed over his face. "I'm so sorry Ada!" He stumbled out in a rush, and fumed at himself in irritation.

Ada just smiled brightly back at him, and shook her head. "You did better this time!" She encouraged, her smile wide and pleased. Sometimes he wondered how she could be so positive. He found it incredibly irritating at times, but now was not the time to get irritated with her. She was helping him, and her feet had taken a bruising in the process. He had to be nice, it was only fair.

He huffed in irritation at his own clumsiness, and crossed his arms in front of his chest without even realizing he had done it. He hated her false praise, but he disliked screwing up more. "Hardly at all."

Her smile softened as she wandered over to a one of the bleachers on the side of the gym, and sat down for a rest. "That isn't true. You've gotten much better at dancing while we've been practicing."

Elliot dismissed her statement with an upward tilt of his chin, and shake of his shoulders. "Idle flattery is useless; you should know that by now." Elliot should not have snapped, he knew that, but had not gotten better, not even slightly. Her feet were testament enough to that. In response, Ada just smiled at him. It was enough to make him want to quit right then and there, but he wouldn't dare. He had never really been skilled at much of anything. School, sports, art; all of it was well beyond him. Elliot had come to realize in his relatively short life of 16 years, that he was entirely average, and completely unskilled in just about anything. It was an irritating truth, but truth no less. Usually his overabundance of diligence made up for his utter lack of skill. If he wasn't good at something, he'd practice till he was at least decent. He was more than willing to do the same with dancing, but it was a lot harder to be diligent about practice when he needed a partner. It also didn't help that Ada was too nice to tell him no, and too nice to tell him he was horrible at it, and way too nice to admit that she was going to have to soak her feet when he took her home, because they were likely throbbing. He was loath to admit that he hadn't just stepped on them once or twice, or even three times. The number was much, much higher.

It was frustrating, and he was actually quite short tempered, despite his ability to persevere. What was the use in this sort of thing anyway? Most kids these days just moved their butts rhythmically to dance, but Elliot found that far too undignified to even consider. He'd invited Ada to the prom, but he was starting to doubt she would have answered yes if she knew how much work was going to be behind it. Again, she was too nice to say anything about it.

He was about to start on another internal tirade when Ada's calm voice interrupted his thoughts. "This is all good practice, Elliot. Just think how happy you'll make the woman you marry, when you sweep her onto the dance floor at the reception. It'll be easier to think of it that way, instead of just counting over and over again in your head." The statement was ludicrous at best, but Elliot exhaled loudly, and listened to it anyway. "If you consider the person you're dancing with, you probably won't step on them." It was a rather rude thing for Ada to say, but they'd known each other for a long time, and Ada was a little more informal with him than with others. He was happy for it.

Elliot frowned, but couldn't look her in the eye. "I did invite you to prom Ada."

She giggled to herself, the sound like crystal bells. "But I'm not the person you'd like to invite, right? I'm just the most convenient choice. You're comfortable with me."

He didn't look at her. "I'm not going to get married."

She cooed at him, and stood from her sitting position. "Well, just consider it. Don't think about the time, or the music, or me. Just close your eyes, and think of the person you want to dance with. Imagine their hair, their smell, and how they'll feel in your hands. Even if you've never met that person, you'll be surprised what comes to mind."

Elliot looked over at her with a critical eye. She was really into this whole new age, spiritual, crazy, mumbo jumbo stuff, and he never bought it for a second. Ada simply smiled at his obvious cynicism and walked over towards him. She pointed at her eyes. He got the hint that she wanted him to close them, and with an irritated sigh, he did exactly that.

For once, he did as she instructed. He imagined one slender hand with long fingers grasping his, the other leading him to a slim waist. He imagined the smell of ginger and old books. He imagined messy hair, and dark laughter. He imagined black hair, and kaleidoscope eyes looking back at him.

Elliot would never admit it, but for once, Ada was absolutely right. They danced and danced and danced for hours. When they finally did stop, when he dared open his eyes, Ada reached up, and dried his cheeks with the soft pad of her thumb. "Me too" was all she said. She didn't need to say anything else.


End file.
